California Angels shortstop David Eckstein interrupts our interview in his unfailingly polite way.

“Ah, Mr. Cook, is it all right if I call you back?’’ he asks.

“David, you’re 27 and you’ve known me 20 years, you can call me Sam,’’ I reply.

“Not in front of my dad, you know that,’’ he says.

Whitey Eckstein, David’s dad, is 3,000 miles away, but the discipline he instilled in his son never subsides.

“I never rebelled,’’ says David, who plays against San Francisco in the World Series on Saturday night. “I knew it was the best for me. He was actually tougher on the older ones.’’

Whitey, 57, is a throwback parent and recently retired American history teacher at Seminole High in Sanford, 20 miles north of Orlando.

“The first word I taught my kids was ‘no,’ ’’ Whitey says. “Even if it was something simple they wanted, they had to learn no.’’

The five Eckstein kids learned discipline and tenacity. They were well-prepared when adversity hit.

Kenny, 33, Christine, 32, and Susan, 31, all had kidney transplants. Whitey’s wife, Pat, 55, gave Susan a kidney.

David, 27, and brother Rick, 29, tested negative for the kidney ailment.

The siblings survived and thrived. Kenny and Christine are attorneys. Susan won an outstanding adviser award at the University of South Florida two years ago.

David and Rick were small for their age, but baseball was their equalizer. They became all-stars in the Seminole Pony Baseball program.

I was sports editor at the Evening Herald in Sanford and reported their exploits.

Something was missing from those games, though.

There’s Pat, but where’s Whitey? Dad is AWOL.

“He couldn’t take it,’’ David says. “He didn’t want to ever see us fail.’’

Whitey showed up at some all-star tournaments, but kept his distance.

I chided him. How can you miss some of the best moments of your sons’ lives?

“It took more love to stay away than to be there,’’ Whitey says. “I didn’t want to interfere with the coaches.

“Parents can ruin a kid if they take the fun out of baseball. I didn’t want to do that.’’

Whitey missed games, but not the post-game baseball show and tell.

“We had to tell him everything that happened,’’ David says. “To this day, I better not pop up.’’

“When I told him I went 3-for-4, he wanted to know why I didn’t go 4-for-4,’’ Rick says. “He always pushed us.’’

Whitey suffered a stroke in 1990. His boys say it might have made him realize what he was missing.

“I started following them avidly when David was in high school,’’ Whitey says. “I knew he’d be a good college player if he got stronger.’’

David’s been an all-star, all-state or All-American at every amateur level — but at 5-foot-6 and 150 pounds, he didn’t measure up for colleges or major-league scouts.

Whitey told him to walk on at the University of Florida, his dad’s alma mater.

David says a walk-on’s tryout consists of five swings, three ground balls and your time in the 60-yard dash.

“I wouldn’t have made it except I worked out on my own for six weeks,’’ he says.

He got a break. A second baseman transferred to Jacksonville University. A coach recommended the relentless kid in the batting cage.

David didn’t play much as a freshman but later became a fixture at second base.

Rick, an outfielder, transferred to Florida in 1995 and the Eckstein boys helped the Gators to third place at the 1996 College World Series.

Whitey didn’t miss that trip and the proud father was interviewed on national TV.

The Red Sox drafted David in the 19th round and signed him for a $1,000 bonus.

“I didn’t have any leverage,’’ he says, sheepishly.

“Being a dumb kid, I believed I had a great shot to make it.’’

Luke Wrenn, the scout who signed David, didn’t give his dad much hope.

Whitey says Wrenn told him if David put in five years in the minors, he could pick up a coaching job.

Again, David made the experts eat their words.

He batted better than .300 and played flawless defense at second base in his first three minor-league stops.

David worked his way onto Boston’s 40-man roster in 2000 and went to spring training in Fort Myers.

He went to Triple A Pawtucket where the Red Sox tried to change his batting style. His game fell apart.

Whitey, the antithesis of a Little League parent, wanted to give the Red Sox brass a piece of his mind.

“The Red Sox would take Lee Trevino and try to make him swing a golf club like Mark O’Meara,’’ he says.

Big brother to the rescue.

“Mom called me and said David isn’t sleeping, he isn’t eating,’’ says Rick, his brother’s hitting guru. “You have to do something.’’

Rick, now the assistant baseball coach at the University of Georgia, convinced David to return to his swing.

“My brother is too nice. He takes advice from everyone,’’ Rick says. “I told him he could play in the major leagues with his game.’’

David regrouped and raised his average, but Boston waived him in 2000. Anaheim got him Aug. 16.

Boston’s loss was Anaheim’s gain. David finished the season hitting .346 with the Angels’ Triple A team.

His next break came last year in spring training. Second baseman Adam Kennedy broke a finger and the Angels turned to David.

“I got a hit in every game,’’ he says. “When Adam came back, every paper had me going to Triple A to learn to play shortstop.’’

David says Angels infield instructor Alfredo Griffin stomped on that notion.

“He said I could play shortstop here right now,’’ David says. “I won the shortstop job in May.’’

David batted .286 as a rookie and .293 this season.

He doesn’t smoke, drink, chew or cuss and goes to Mass every Sunday.

The Angels leadoff hitter is all hustle all the time.

David Eckstein is the All-American Boy — he just comes in a smaller size.

But aren’t you too short?

“No one ever came up to my face and said: ‘You’re too short and you can’t play,’ ” David says. “The Red Sox measured me 5-6› for three years. The Angels measured me at 5-7€.

“I picked up › of an inch going from Boston to Anaheim. I don’t know how.’’

Maybe it’s the halo.